


Into our hideaway

by SparrowPixie



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Dara and Nahri get a happy ending, F/M, Not canon but not not canon if you get me, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Serotonin, self indulgent happy times, shameless fluff, this was for my eyes only but wth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie
Summary: Set in a kinder AU where I get everything I want even though this is too fluffy to be actual literary content
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just a writing exercise to get my creative juices flowing and practice present tense writing but Astarisms has persuaded me to post it. It takes place from both Nahri and Dara’s POVs and skips ahead every now and then. I hope you enjoy!

Nahri disregards it at first. She attributes the strange fluttering sensation in her stomach to nerves over the recent opening of her practice here in Zariaspa. But after two months of this incessant feeling, Nahri becomes more suspicious and decides to self examine. She says nothing to her husband as he has a tendency to panic if she is in even the most minor distress.

Nahri locks herself up in her practice and turns on the oil lamp by the door to make the residents of Zariaspa aware that she is open for “emergencies only” for the duration of the evening.

As she lies down in her infirmary she is acutely aware of her husband’s presence upstairs in their apartments. She can hear the soft movements of his footsteps as he walks about the kitchen, no doubt preparing supper. She had better hurry before he comes to collect her. He has a habit of ensuring she never overworks herself. Something she has come to appreciate about him.

Nahri places a hand over her stomach and closes her eyes, focusing in on the strange feeling that’s been plaguing her. Perhaps a virus or something in the town’s water supply she should be aware of.

Abruptly, the presence makes itself known, declaring what it is to her. 

The fluttering sensation that had made her so uneasy is a heartbeat. 

And it is not her own.

And whatever belongs to this heartbeat has been in existence for roughly three months.

Tears sting her eyes and the only thing more thrilling than this realization, is that she gets to tell her husband. And Nahri knows he’s been wanting this for as long as she can remember. Dara has only briefly mentioned his desire for a family a few times over the ten years they have been reunited. Likely not wanting to put any unwanted pressure on her.

He has expressed to Nahri on many occasions that she is “still very young.” That she may need time to decide what she wants out of a life with him. Nahri has always imagined they would put down roots eventually but never so suddenly.

Yet she finds herself elated all the same and she can suddenly not imagine her life going any different way.

When she finally summons the courage to get off of the cot, she ensures her eyes are no longer rimmed with red. She takes a deep breath to ease the rapid thrumming of her heart. When Nahri goes upstairs, she does not want to betray any indication of her recent discovery. In fact, she’s still uncertain of how to break the news to him, but judging by the bursting in her chest she won’t be able to keep it a secret long.

At the sight of him setting their table the news nearly tumbles from her lips, but somehow she manages to bite her tongue. 

Dara arches a brow, wearing an amused smile, as he asks her why she’s looking at him “like that.” Nahri insists it’s no different from how she alway stares at him and they sit down for supper.

When Dara offers her wine, Nahri finds herself almost accepting but then refusing suspiciously fast as the first drop splashes into her cup. Luckily, her husband thinks nothing of it, shrugging her off and before she knows it, it’s time for bed.

When Nahri changes into the tunic she sleeps in (one of Dara’s because she enjoys the smoky citrus scent of him on her skin), she discovers a noticeable difference in her physique. A very, very barely noticeable difference that she suspects no one will see unless she points it out. 

The smallest of bumps in between her hips. It fits perfectly in the palm of her hand and she can almost suck it in so that it vanishes entirely; but it’s definitely there. Even when she pulls on the tunic, she can see it if she pulls the fabric flush over her abdomen.

There’s a familiar, faint splashing from the bathroom announcing that Dara is done washing his face in the basin. Nahri quickly clambers into bed, her legs numb in anticipation. How to tell him the good news? The news he’s been waiting for patiently for years.

As he climbs into bed beside her, he waves a hand and the lamps around the room extinguish. With the moonlight streaming in, illuminating his face, Nahri finds herself hoping that whatever is growing within her is a boy. A miniature version of the Dara she has come to love.

Her husband reclines against the pillows and rolls onto his side, facing her direction. She matches him slowly.

“Why are you smiling, little thief?” her Afshin asks with that smirk that makes her stomach flip.

She hasn’t realized that she’s smiling but can’t bring herself to stop now.

Perhaps there is no right way to confess to the news. Perhaps it simply needs to come out. 

Her fingers brush his jawline then take his free hand. Trembling in anticipation, she lays his palm directly over the small, barely perceptible bump between her hips. When she meets his eyes, they are first confused, then his lips part in surprise and his gaze falls to their hands beneath the blanket. 

She beams in response as a hesitant grin spreads on his lips. When he finally meets her eyes again, she sees his own are swimming with tears giving them the appearance of glimmering emeralds. Nahri can’t resist saying the words even though she can tell that Dara has already picked up on the news. His eyebrows lift slightly as though begging her to confirm.

“I’m pregnant.”

And Dara closes his eyes, tears streaming down the sharp plains of his face. She reaches up with her free hand to wipe them away. 

He sniffs and looks to her with quiet desperation. “Nahri, you are certain?”

She laughs softly and scoots closer to him so his hand presses against the small bump more firmly. “Yes, and if that’s not proof enough for you, there’s a heartbeat.”

Dara tucks his chin and Nahri can hear a hitch in his breath. He places both hands on her stomach and lowers his head so that the top rests just between Nahri ribs. He whispers something and presses a feather light kiss to the spot beneath her navel. When he rises, Nahri sees that his eyes are pink and the smile on his face is similar to the one he wore on their wedding day. He cups her cheek with one of his hands.

“You are a miracle, Banu Nahida.”

Nahri examines her profile in the mirror, astonished at the stark difference between her appearance two months ago and now. The curve of her stomach has become more prominent and is no longer concealable, even in her loosest abaya. She’s drawn the stares of some Zariaspan residents. It certainly doesn’t help that Dara is constantly at her side, either placing a gentle hand on her stomach or preventing her from doing the most menial of tasks lest she “over exert” herself.

Then there’s the fact that since Nahri told Dara it was safe to tell Jamshid he’s been informing practically anyone who will listen. Merchants. Patients. Strangers.

It seems that after Jamshid’s very outwardly expressed excitement of becoming an uncle, her husband can’t resist confessing the news to everyone. 

One evening, as he clears supper from their table, Dara quietly asks if Nahri knows the gender. She probably will next month, but she’s curious to know if he has a preference. 

At the question Dara laughs. “How on earth could I have a preference?”

Nahri smiles to herself, tracing the rim of her cup of tea with her finger. He’ll make a good father, she imagines. 

“Will they sleep in our room? Or should we make the storage room into a nursery?”

Dara delves into planning for the next two months. He visits various establishments in search of a crib but is unsatisfied with their stock. He considers conjuring one but is concerned it will not be safe.

“What if it vanishes in the night because my magic isn’t strong enough?”

So the Daeva father-to-be resolves to build the crib himself. While Nahri works in her infirmary, treating various patients, Dara sweeps through carrying wood and tools. He glances at her fondly as he passes into the backyard to begin building.

One night, while Dara is out riding, Nahri visits the local bazaar with a gift in mind for her husband and when she finds it she feels for the first time, a strong kick within her. Nahri buys the item it on the spot.

When she explains to Dara that the gift is a wrap so that his child can be safely attached to him to take them on horseback rides through the countryside, the Afshin dissolves into those silent tears once more, burying his head in the crook of her shoulder and clutching the fabric to his chest. Her front pressed to his midsection, there is the strong kick of their child again. Dara slowly raises his head, eyes wide in surprise. Nahri smiles at the shocked expression on his face. He’s been waiting months for this moment, concerned that no movement was bad news. Nahri had told him to trust in his “Nahid” and rest easy knowing she could tell that the baby was fine and healthy. But now, feeling the gentle but steady kicking, Dara’s spare hand quickly rises to press against the spot as though fearful he’ll miss the moment. He releases a tearful laugh that Nahri can’t help but mirror.

“They did that when I bought the wrap, you know? It seems they’re excited to ride with their baba,” she grins.

If Nahri thought that this would dry the tears in Dara’s eyes she was mistaken. The Afshin only lets out another chuckle that is also a half sob. Nahri isn’t sure how long the kicking lasts, but the two stand frozen there until it ends.

Nearing the final month, Dara is in a constant state of anticipation.

The slightest sound of discomfort from Nahri and he reacts. Either telling her patients she needs to wrap up her appointments or begging her to sit while he makes her tea. Any requests for food are met with the conjuring of a small feast. Any mention of the most minor pain and he is there to massage an ache or mix a medicinal remedy for her. 

Nahri finds herself surprisingly fine with this. The attention of strangers is unwanted but Dara’s attentiveness is yet another reminder that he will be a fine father. 

He assuages all her doubts, lends her an ear for any concerns, is completely at her beck and call no matter how great or small the need.

But there finally comes a night where Dara confesses his own worries.

“What will we tell them of my past?” he asks one night as they lie in bed. “How do we explain my crimes, Banu Nahida? We cannot pretend they never happened.”

Nahri grimaces, but she has had time to think about this. She has an answer ready and waiting for him since he mentioned his desire for a child.

“We tell them the entire truth when the time comes. I can’t say when that will be. Maybe sooner or maybe later.”

“What if…” His voice breaks but he clears his throat to banish the roughness. “What if it tears us apart? What if they never wish to see me again? What if they are tormented for being my child?”

“Dara,” Nahri says firmly. “We will be a family and while I’ve never had one in the most traditional sense of the word, I know that we will always stick together. Even if we do break a part for a while.”

Dara nods and she can tell that it isn’t quite the answer he wanted, but he much prefers her honesty to any fables. 

He threads his fingers with hers. “And when they learn that their father was a slave?” 

“You really think worrying yourself sick over all this is going to make you any more prepared, Afshin?” she asks with a raised brow. “It’s no use fretting over it. One day the time will come and we will handle it. All we can do in the meantime is help you work towards making retributions. And then, one day, you’ll have a great deal of good to explain with the bad. Alright?”

He nods again and Nahri rolls over onto her other side, molding herself to his front. One of his arms drapes over her waist, resting gently on the expanse of her stomach.

“I cannot believe how normal I am now,” Dara chuckles, his breath hot against her neck. “And I mean that in the best sense of the word of course.”

Nahri laughs, sliding a hand over his. “I will admit, this is not where I saw us that night when you greeted me with an arrow…”

“Yes, forgive me, I was unaware that you were my future wife.” He rests his chin on her shoulder. “Banu Nahida, this has been quite the adventure.”

“If you think these past few months have been an adventure wait until you see what happens after next month.”

He laughs again and presses a tender kiss to her neck. 

Towards the end of the final month, Dara has discovered that despite his helping hand, Nahri’s current state is almost amusing. Where she used to clamber atop stools and cabinets to gather medicines or tools she grumpily asks for his assistance. Her insistence that she doesn’t require help up the stairs to their apartment is accompanied by a scowl that brings a smile to Dara’s lips. Her refusal of help for sitting or standing only for her to growl “fine, give me your hand” is an endless source of laughter for the both of them (although Nahri seems reluctant to admit it's humorous).

Truth be told, more than her stubbornness, Dara enjoys being needed. And more than he enjoys being needed, he loves hearing Nahri teasingly refer to him as “baba.” Her jabs about how he will spoil their child rotten. The passing remarks that he will soon have his hands full. All of her jokes that suggest he will be a good father. The father he sometimes glimpsed in Artash and wished had been more consistent.

In the night, Dara is awoken by Nahri groaning slightly, her hand pressed to the lower side of her bump. Her eyes are shut in what he recognizes as concentration and he waits with bated breath as she inhales and exhales slowly.

“Has it begun?” he asks hesitantly.

Nahri shakes her hand, grimacing at him. “Almost. They’ve moved into position.”

His incessant questioning has finally come in handy and he is eager to put it to use.

“Meaning that they’ve dropped lower,” Dara says confidently.

“We’ll make a healer out of you yet, Afshin,” Nahri yawns.

She shifts into a more comfortable position in the bed and falls back asleep. Dara, on the other hand, is now wide awake.

  
  


Gritting her teeth Nahri remembers Dara’s assumptions that he has voiced with caution. 

“I am no Nahid but I did have a large family, and from what I recall labor is a painful affair. Is there anything I should do to help you prepare?”

Nahri had snorted at the suggestion telling Dara that she would manipulate the pain with her healing magic and the midwife would handle the rest. There was nothing to worry about. She suspected it may even be too easy and that should they decide to have a second child he should remind her how difficult the final month of pregnancy was rather than resurfacing any memories of labor.

How wrong she had been.

The agony of labor is so intense Nahri finds herself unable to focus any efforts on subsiding the pain. All she can do is grit her teeth and squeeze Dara’s hand while the midwife instructs her on breathing, occasionally dabbing sweat from her face with a towel or placing a cool washcloth on her forehead. 

Dara’s voice is a gentle hum in the background. She can tell he is trying to make her smile (as usual) but Nahri instead focuses her efforts on concentrating on the beads of water saturating her forehead. On the feeling of Dara’s palm in hers. 

You better love me a lot…

Nahri falls into an exhaustion induced sleep not long after she hears her son’s first cries. There is the smiling face of the midwife and the soft murmur of Dara's voice before her vision darkens. 

She is in and out of sleep, desperately trying to keep her eyes open. Wanting to be there for Dara as she knows he is likely very anxious. But when her eyes open again, he is gently holding their son and the elation on his face is almost palpable.

“Hello Yaqub,” Dara says quietly. 

Dara looks at Nahri and she tries to smile at him, but by the Creator, how her brain craves sleep. Her eyelids are so heavy. 

Dara leans forward, his lips gently pressing to her sweaty forehead. “You did so well, Banu Nahida,” he says softly. “Now rest. We will be here when you wake.”

We.

Nahri drifts in and out of sleep, waking to drink and eat some bland food on occasion for the rest of the day. She only feels herself again at dawn.

The midwife has gone. The infirmary has been cleaned. Her clothing has been changed and beside her is a cup of what she suspects is willow tea for her lingering pain.

She takes a slow sip with trembling hands, eyes searching the room for any sign of her husband.

It isn’t until another moment that she realizes he is on the cot across from her, sound asleep with a bundle on top of his chest.

His face is free of any concern and Nahri can’t remember the last time she saw Dara in such a state of calm. It brings a smile to her lips and she has a strong urge to slip out of her bed and join Dara and her son. A sharp pain in her stomach reminds her she probably should not move for at least a few more hours.

So Nahri watches the two of them sleep instead. The sight does not get old, she does not become bored. She doubts it is a sight she will ever tire of.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue for ya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Hannah who convinced me to post this shameless, self indulgent, wish fulfillment, nameless AU fluff piece

_ 6 months later _

Dara has always enjoyed horseback riding. It’s one of the few things he remembers from his mortal life. 

While everyone had applauded his deadly talent with any weapon he laid his hands on, Dara had been most proud of his natural aptitude for riding. Perhaps that was why he’d taken so fondly to shooting on horseback. Riding his horse and shooting with lethal precision not only earned him the praise of his family and his Nahids, but it was something he could enjoy.

He never thought that there would be anything he would love more.

Then he met Nahri and as loathe as he was to admit it at the time, her falling asleep as he took them across the plains of the desert had stirred a familiar happiness in him. Afterwards - when they had briefly gone their separate ways - riding his horse was still an activity he took pleasure in, but it was lacking without Nahri’s company.

And now, as he took his mare gently through the Zariaspan countryside, the experience had taken on an entirely new sensation of happiness with his infant son wrapped to his chest.

Taking Yaqub riding was a daily activity reserved for whenever Dara needed him to sleep. Sometimes in the evening before bed, sometimes in the dead of night when he wouldn’t stop crying, sometimes at the break of dawn when Nahri needed more rest. The steady rocking of his father’s body as the horse galloped across the sandy hills and the heat from his skin never failed to lull Yaqub into a deep slumber.

Dara currently rides with him atop the highest hill where the view of the sunset is like something from a fairytale.

He glances down trying to see if his son’s dark eyes are open. They are all but shut, his tiny mouth hanging open. 

Dara snorts. “You’re missing it again, Yaqub.”

As if in response, Yaqub nuzzles his head of feather like black curls into his father’s chest. He yawns hugely for someone so small and Dara’s chest feels like it may burst at the sight. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of Yaqub’s head and his eyes finally droop all the way shut at the warmth of Dara’s fingers.

The demons come calling for Dara in this moment of happiness telling him to enjoy this while it lasts. That he will eventually have to confess his crimes, his past to his son. That Yaqub will recognize Dara for the monster he is. That Nahri will agree. That he will lose them both. That he will lose everything and the life he has built will be nothing more than a cruel memory to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Dara shuts his eyes tight, willing away the darkness. The claws of his demons sunk deep within his mind slowly and begrudgingly release their hold and when Dara looks back at his son, the blackness fades into light.

Dara turns his gaze to the sunset, carefully adjusting his seat on the horse. “I’ll tell you everything one day,” he says softly. “And no matter what you decide or how you react, at least I’ll have had this much.”

The idea may sound melancholy to anyone who could overhear, but to Dara it is good news. Having a chance, or a span of time, no matter how small or brief, is a gift he never thought he would receive.

He presses his lips to the top of Yaqub’s head, smiling to himself. “It is more than I deserve. It is more than I thought I would ever have.” Dara grabs the reigns and releases a sigh of contentment. “Let’s go home.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!


End file.
